The Bat, Cat and the Brat
by Skywolf24
Summary: While keeping under the League of Assassins radar, Bruce, Selina and Damian travel the world in low profile and try to give a stubborn child assassin good memories along the way. Family tension, fluff and angst. A companion piece for Heir of Shadow.


**The Bat, Cat and the Brat**

**A disclaimer : All characters belong to Christopher Nolan and DC Comics**

**I own nothing**

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**1**

**[Milkshakes]**

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"This is boring as Hell, father." Damian digressed in a dangerously low voice; he shifted uncomfortably against the leather booth, scowling and glowering his steel-blue eyes at other families sitting around their plastic covered, sticky table. He felt unnatural in the element of family bliss-wearing a New York Dodger's black T-shirt, jeans and a baseball cap covering his shaggy chocolate locks. He slouched his posture, curling his fingers into a tight fist and fastened his lips into a rigid line. "How long do we have to wait for our meal from these servants?" he questioned in a spite tone, leveling his unnerving glare with the severe, molten hazel-green eyes of Bruce Wayne.

Bruce narrowed his wary hazel eyes, his smooth lips fastened into a firm line- revealing the distinct indents of his briskly jaw-it had been two days since he last shaved back at Wayne Manor- but it became a necessary sacrifice of vanity to keep a low profile from a trained and lethal masked assassin, Slade Wilson.

He rubbed his temples, easing the pulsing tension with lazy circular patterns of his fingertips and then let out a frustrated breath-looking down at his unperturbed twelve-year-old blood son with a hardened, infuriated gape of his hooded eyes.

"Look Damian," Bruce rasped with a hint of displeasure ragging up the walls of his throat. "I would appreciate it if you showed more respect. The people you see washing down tables and serving customers... They're not servants but employees of this... Um..."

"A low, degrading rat hole, father." Damian shot back with a smirk gracing over his lips. He crossed his small and broad arms over his chest and leaned back against the cushions. "Why did you decide for us to have a meal here?" he questioned, his voice laced with temperate heat. He studied his father's expressions with his sharp blue eyes-he allowed his gaze to drift at a waitress pouring a truck driver another cup of black, oil-like coffee.

"You are the Wayne Heir of Gotham," Damian rebuffed, his lips snarled up into a grimace. He raked his feral eyes over his father's choice of attire-the forty-year old billionaire playboy was garbed in a plain black shirt, frayed jeans that only a mechanic could wear in public and running shoes. His favorite aviator glasses hung loosely over the collar of his neck- -chisleaded, hawkish features flushed from the stale heat of summer and a baseball cap eased over his groomed, lengthy dark chestnut hair. "You're a prince to your bloodline why chose an unfitting meal shack when you can eat anywhere without these simple-minded fools ruining the moment with their laughter and ridiculous choices of nourishment."

Bruce lifted up a spoon, bending the steel slightly down with his thumb-he bared his teeth; attempting to regain a stern, controlled semblance while seething out his anger.

Damian shot him an amusing stare, his blue eyes darkened with devilish glints reflecting in his pupils-making the billionaire's rage building deeper into his boiling veins. He was slowly losing his edge. Bruce cleared his throat and snapped his eyes down at the menu for a brief second. "We're incognito until the heat dies down, Damian." He discharged a raspy growl. "We have to keep ourselves off the radar... Which means I can't use any of my credit cards until Lucius Fox can find a way back in Gotham to make every transaction I make untraceable."

The young Wayne heir rolled his eyes at his father's words, "I think maybe you should execute those warning to your undomesticated girlfriend, father." He felt the edges of his lips tug into a snug line, smirking ruthlessly-his shimmering ice blue eyes settled instantly on the lithe, narrow-build woman-the world famous, elusive jewel thief, casually entering the truck stop diner with lethal grace and poise as she sauntered pass the gaping eyes of burly truck drivers.

"Sorry I'm late boys," Selina Kyle's cool and soft voice echoed throughout the diner. "I had a few places to check up for entering this pit stop."

Bruce's head flew up, feral, guarded hazel-green eyes concealed by the shadow of his cap roved as dots of sweat ran over his flourished and jagged curvatures. He set his jaw hard and met her dark coffee orbs—his penetrating eyes grew wide; he instinctively dared himself to turn his neck and stared intently at the alluring and dangerously beautiful visage of his equal partner and love clicking her thigh-high-serrated heel boots of white scuffed up tile floor.

He blinked twice, clearing the fog out of his gaze, and when he saw her staring in the afternoon sunlight—her lithe frame pressed against the bar. She was dressed in a black-tank top and short cream-colored shorts which displayed the sleek gleam of her long legs. Her iron straight mahogany hair cascaded down her back and full lips shaded with a touch of scarlet—she became a vision of seduction —she was lethal to anyone who spared a glance at her shadowy presence because she was unpredictable—everything about her screamed danger—not to mention that she was also a walking, a stylish armory of proficient weapons.

His sweaty face changed as a warm, broad smirk urged over his straight lips. His hazel eyes dazzled with swirls of warmth—he inhaled her feminine scent—soothing and dangerous to his tortured shell. Selina's molten coffee orbs were like pools of fire as she walked to the table, and sat down next him with a sly look etched over her ivory features. It killed him every time.

"So what did the little brat order this time?" she teased, glaring at Damian, the boy never flinched.

Bruce smirked lightly, "I ordered him a chocolate shake.. Since he refused anything else on the menu."

Selina grinned, involuntary lowering her brown eyes at the plastic menu, "Maybe it's because everything is swimming in fry grease. But a milkshake is a good choice to fight off the summer heat." she purred seductively against his neck, warm breath danced over his pulsing jugular. She traced her fingers absently over Bruce's thigh-gripping the denim with her polished nails.

Bruce arched his eyebrow, feeling the untamed heat, sear into his bones. "I'm glad you think so... Because I ordered one for each of us." He chuckled lightly, she shot him an incurable glare as a curly haired waitress swayed her jutting hips to their table with a tray of three tall milkshakes."I hope you like strawberry, banana, Ms. Kyle?"

"I do, especially when it's on a billionaire who doesn't know the first thing about parenting." she winked at Damian, parting her red lips over the straw, taking a small sip-her other hand slipped a plastic bag underneath the table for the boy to grab as he relished the cool flavor of chocolate down his throat.

"This isn't terrible as I thought, father." Damian said, enjoying his first ever milkshake-he smirked faintly back at Selina.

She smiled, a shadow of indignant pride crossed over her lips.


End file.
